


What the Heart Knew

by semperama



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Revelations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3150644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperama/pseuds/semperama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Chris unexpectedly wins an Oscar for Into the Woods, he blurts out something that he never meant to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Heart Knew

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this based on [this](http://pintokinkmeme.livejournal.com/925.html?thread=21405#t21405) kink meme prompt. I am aware it is unlikely that Chris is going to be nominated for Into the Woods, but hey, it's fiction (and a girl can dream). 
> 
> Thanks to Mystic and Jouissant for talking me off a cliff and giving me some great suggestions on how to make this better. I could not have done it without them. <3
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://semper-ama.tumblr.com/).

“And the Oscar goes to…”

Lupita leans in to the microphone, wrestles with the envelope for a moment, and then smiles and says, “Chris Pine.”

He doesn’t remember how he got to the stage. There is a vague memory of hugs and handshakes and back pats, but he pretty much blacked out on the walk up to the mic, and now that he is standing there looking out at all the faces of his colleagues, his heroes, his peers, he has to struggle not to just unravel on the spot.

There’s a hefty gold statue in his hand. How did this happen?

“Fu--ah, okay, I’m going to try to get through this without cussing a blue streak,” he says shakily, to titters from the audience. He takes a deep breath and tries again. “Wow, I...uh, okay. Wow. So, I absolutely need to thank…”

Chris launches into the list of names that he made sure he had memorized forward and backward, knowing how nervous he would be in this moment--his castmates, his makeup and hair people (“I’m convinced the hair is what really won me this Oscar, so…”), the director and producers, his parents, his sister.

“And I have to thank Anna, for making me look so good.” He smiles softly in her direction. She swipes at her eyes and blows him a kiss, which he pretends to catch and put in his pocket. The audience awwws.

He’s forgetting someone though. Who is he forgetting? His eyes sweep over the crowd, as if he’ll find the answer that way. And then he does. His gaze falls on Zach, who is there because he was asked to present tonight. Miles is with him, and one of his arms is around his shoulders, but he is beaming at Chris like there is no one else in the room. All at once, Chris loses control of his mouth.

“And I want to thank Zach! Oh shi--shoot, how could I forget? Zachary, you are...I should just hand you this fu--...this statue right now. Not only did you make me a better actor; you made me a better _person_. You were the one who told me I didn’t have to be what everyone else wanted me to be, and you always reminded me I was more than a pretty face when I was afraid that’s all I was. I don’t know how I would have made it through the last five years of my life without you there. I probably would have lost my fu--, uh, my mind. And I just...I want you to know that your respect and your faith in me is what kept me going when I didn’t think I could, and I love you so much, with all my heart.”

It’s not until Zach’s expression morphs from beatific to stricken that Chris realizes he said something wrong. The past few seconds blur together in his mind as he desperately tries to replay them, to figure out what he said, but all of a sudden the orchestra is playing again, and Lupita’s hand is on his arm, directing him toward the side of the stage, and he just barely manages not to trip over his feet, clutching the Oscar in both of his clammy hands and letting white noise consume his brain.

\-------

It’s in the press room that all hell breaks loose. Chris is not the least bit prepared.

_“The Zachary you were talking about in your acceptance speech was Zachary Quinto, right?”_

_“How would you characterize your relationship with Mr. Quinto?”_

_“Did Anna know that you’re in love with him?”_

_“Does he know you’re in love with him?”_

In love with him? _In love with him?_ Is that what he said? His mouth goes dry, and white spots start to erupt in his vision. He can feel himself start to sway, but there is nothing to steady himself on--nothing but a terrifying, spindly microphone waiting to pick up whatever idiotic thing comes out of his mouth next.

“Uhh...I don’t...we aren’t…”

Someone’s hand is on his arm, tugging him away from the microphone, and he looks over to see his publicist’s furious face. Shit. He is so fucked. 

But that is the least of his worries at the moment. Apparently he just stood on stage during the biggest award show in the entertainment industry and told an entire theater full of Hollywood types that he loved Zach. That he is _in love_ with Zach. 

“Do you have any idea how many millions of people you just aired your dirty laundry to, Christopher?” Jenny, his publicist, is hissing at him. She tugs him through a side door, out of the press room and back into the lobby. “Zach’s people are going to have a field day. You could have a lawsuit on your hands!”

“Lawsuit? I...what?” Jenny is dragging him into a corner, and he is stumbling along passively while he still struggles to wrap his head around what is happening. “Zach’s not going to sue me.”

“He might if you just ruined his relationship.” Chris’s stomach rolls at the very thought. “But even if he doesn’t, what about your reputation? Everyone is going to think you two have been sneaking around!”

“No one’s been sneaking around,” Chris snaps. The panic welling up inside him is making him want to lash out. He jerks his arm out of Jenny’s grasp and tugs at his collar. “I’m not in love with Zach. I might have said I loved him, but I meant as a...as a friend. We can just spin it--”

“No one’s going to buy that, Chris. Everyone in theater, and everyone watching at home, saw the look on your face.”

“The look on my…?”

Jenny’s expression softens just a fraction, and she reaches out and smoothes down his sleeve. “I’ll do my best to make it so you don’t have to make a statement until tomorrow, but I think you have some people you need to talk to.”

And with that, Jenny turns on her heel and heads back to the press room for damage control. Chris suddenly feels very alone.

\-------

It turns out that he doesn’t have to look hard for Anna. She is pacing back and forth in front of the doors to the theater, evidently waiting for him, worried about him. And just behind her, leaning against a pillar with his eyes on the ground, is Zach. Chris’s heart clenches painfully.

Anna tosses a cryptic look over her shoulder, then rushes up to Chris and puts a hand on his arm to maneuver him a little ways away. “What _was_ that?” she aks.

Chris is still clutching the stupid statue in his hand. He sort of wants to chuck it at the wall, but for now he stares down at it like a coward, unwilling and unable to look at Anna’s face, certain that she thinks he’s an idiot too. “I didn’t mean to,” he says quietly. “I didn’t know what I was saying.”

“I think you did,” she says, giving his arm a squeeze.

He looks up sharply. What is that supposed to mean? “This wasn’t some planned confession of love, Anna. Now people are going to think he was cheating on his boyfriend, or that I was cheating on you, even though we aren’t together, and…”

“You let me worry about what the press thinks about us,” she says. “It was getting to be about time for us to crush all their hopes and dreams of you and I being a power couple anyway.” Chris can’t tell if he loves her or hates for joking right now, but either way he’s grateful for her. It must show on his face, because she smiles at him. “Look, Pine, you better not fuck this one up.”

Chris shakes his head dumbly. “What?”

“Chris,” Anna says, with infinite patience. “I haven’t once seen you look at anyone the way you look at Zach. I haven’t seen any person look at another person the way you look at Zach. Maybe you didn’t mean to say what you said, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t the truth.” 

Before Chris can say anything, or even open his mouth to argue, she stretches up on her toes and to kiss his cheek, her hand cradling the back of his neck for one brief moment before she steps away. “Listen, I’ve got to go...do some damage control.” She glances over at Zach, and then back at Chris. “And so do you. Remember what I said though. Don’t fuck it up.”

She smiles one last smile at him, and then that’s it. She’s turning on her heel, and she’s gone. 

Chris looks over at Zach, and Zach looks up. Their eyes meet, but neither of them moves for a long moment. Then, slowly, Zach straightens up and walks toward him.

“Zach, I--”

Chris starts, even though he has absolutely no idea what he's supposed to say right now.

“Miles left,” Zach says, cutting Chris off. His voice is steely, and now that he’s close, Chris can see the hardness in his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the clear signs of anger. “I mean, he _left_ left. Just like that. He’s going to catch the next flight back to New York. Said he’d move his stuff out before I get back.”

Chris feels like he’s just been kicked him in the gut. “Fuck, Zach, I’m so sorr--”

“Did you mean it?”

It’s not what he expects Zach to say at all. He expects to be berated for ruining Zach’s love life, or for embarrassing the hell out of him in front of the whole world, but instead he is getting asked if he _meant it_? Chris balks, stares at Zach with his mouth agape for a moment, feeling helpless. “I’m not--”

“It’s a fucking yes or no question, Pine,” Zach snaps. “Did you mean it?”

Chris is way too scared for this. “Listen, you should go after Miles. You could still catch him,” he says shakily, fighting against every single instinct he has. He’s hugging little Oscar to his chest and staring at the corner of Zach’s mouth, the space between his eyebrows, anywhere but into his eyes, because he’s already had one case of word vomit tonight, and he isn’t sure he can survive another.

Zach looks like he’s about two seconds away from knocking Chris’s head off his shoulders. “If I wanted to go after Miles, I would have done it.”

"But you love--"

"It doesn't matter." Zach is apparently very much determined not to let Chris finish a single one of his sentences. "I...it doesn't matter how I did or didn't feel about Miles. He's not...I mean, fuck, Chris, isn't it obvious?"

Isn't what obvious? Chris frowns, shakes his head. “You have something good with him, man. You shouldn’t just--”

Thank God Zach cuts him off--gets right up into his space and pushes a finger into his chest--because Chris was making himself sick, saying things he knew he didn’t really want to say, like reading from a bad script. But now Zach is too close, and there is so much fire in his eyes that Chris thinks he might burst into flames.

“I have something good with _you_ ,” Zach seethes. 

“What?” Zach is too, too close, and there something in his expression that Chris didn’t see at first, under the anger--something that looks alarmingly like fear.

“Chris,” Zach says, just the slightest bit less angry than before and a whole lot shakier. “If I had thought for even one second that I could be with you, that you wanted to be with me, it wouldn’t have even been a question.”

“ _What_?” Chris actually reels back, dumbfounded. “You never said--”

“ _You_ never said,” Zach points out. It’s probably a decent point, but Chris’s mind isn’t working well enough at the moment to discern a good point from a bad one. “Plus, there were always a million reasons not to. I’ve been fucking up relationships left and right since I was a teenager, and I didn’t want to ruin Trek, or, more importantly, this friendship, and--”

“Wait, no, stop.” Chris puts up a hand, shaking his head. This is too much at once. Nothing from the moment his name was called up to this moment right here makes any sense, and Chris would be convinced he is just having an incredibly vivid nightmare if it weren’t for the fact that he can distinctly feel the point on his chest where Zach’s finger just was, where he might have a bruise tomorrow. “Jesus, we can’t do this.”

 _Here_. Can’t do this _here_ , is what Chris meant, what he should have said, because all at once Zach is turning on his heel and walking away, headed for the doors that lead outside, back to the red carpet. He’s walking with purpose, and his legs are fucking long as hell, so in the twenty or so seconds it takes for Chris to pull himself together and jog after him, he has already made it halfway to the waiting line of limos. 

They really shouldn’t do this now. Most of the press are inside talking to the winners (and the losers), but there are still a few cameras out here, and a collection of fans hoping to get pictures of their favorite celebrities as they leave and head off to their various parties. There aren’t going to be any parties for Chris tonight, that’s for sure. And God, Jenny is going to kill him for what he is about to do. Zach might kill him. It’ll be a small miracle if he makes it out of this night alive.

He grabs Zach by the shoulder and spins him around with more force than he means to. The way Zach’s eyes flash makes Chris brace up, ready for the punch in the jaw that he deserves, but instead Zach’s hands just clench into fists at his side as he stares Chris down.

“What do you want, Chris?”

“You,” Chris blurts. Things never seem to go well when he doesn’t measure out his words carefully, but he doesn’t have time to measure them now. He is already afraid he blew his chance to make this right. “Just...just you.”

Zach stares. His expression is irritatingly unreadable, but Chris could swear he just saw his hands relax a fraction. He blunders on.

“I don’t know how to fucking do this, okay? I don’t know how to...to be the person that gets to have you. And to keep you. And if I knew how to be that person, then maybe I would have tried a long time ago, but I don’t even know if I’m capable of…fuck. Zach, when I think about who in my life I can’t live without, your name is at the top of the list, and when I think about who makes me better, helps me be the person I want to be, it’s always you, and--”

Zach fingers curl into his jacket, dragging him forward and off balance until he’s falling into him, putting one hand on Zach’s shoulder to steady himself. The moment seems to stretch out endlessly--Zach looking into Chris’s eyes as if gauging his honesty, then looking down to his mouth, then tilting his head just so and leaning in that last fraction of an inch so their lips brush.

All the air leaves Chris’s lungs in a gasp of breath against Zach’s mouth. Zach just makes an impatient sound in the back of his throat and kisses Chris harder, demanding his participation, making all his fears go dim and fuzzy and then fade away entirely. Who cares if this might be--probably is--the stupidest fucking thing he’s ever done? What’s the worth of a love that takes no risks? They spent years taking no risks, and could have lived their whole lives without ever making it onto the same page. That is a terrifying thought. It makes Chris clutch Zach tighter, kiss him more fervently, silently apologizing for what might have been.

When they break apart, Zach’s face is flickering in the strobe light of what seems like hundreds of flashbulbs, but this might be the first time in his life Chris hasn’t been painfully aware of all the cameras. All he can see is the way Zach is looking at him. It’s the same way he was looking at him when he was on stage, pouring his heart out, telling him how much he meant to him. He looks rapturous. 

After a moment, he seems to shake himself and takes a deep breath. “We should probably...go talk. Somewhere not here.” 

Chris can only nod dumbly. His fingers are still clutching the shoulder of Zach’s jacket, and uncurling them seems like it would be a whole lot of effort. He really doesn’t want to stop touching Zach at all actually--possibly not ever again. Luckily, Zach is making no move to step away either.

“Chris?” he says after a moment, his voice low and a little tentative.

“Hmm?” Chris answers dreamily. 

Zach’s fingers wrap around Chris’s hand--the one that’s still clutching the gold statue. “Congratulations,” he says. His other hand smoothes Chris’s jacket and then grabs his lapel. “You deserve it.”

Chris lets out a surprised little laugh and shakes his head before leaning in to kiss Zach again. He isn’t sure _anyone_ deserves to be this happy, to get everything they want in one night, but he isn’t going to question it.


End file.
